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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24158074">sofia</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/drqco/pseuds/drqco'>drqco</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Family, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, soft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:22:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,504</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24158074</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/drqco/pseuds/drqco</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>he didn’t hold her, in the monastery. andrés did, with his careful, painter hands. martín was scared, his hands weren’t as soft and his arms sometimes weren’t as welcoming. she seemed so fragile and martín felt so big, like if he moved wrong, he’d hurt her. </p>
<p>it terrified him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>sofia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>pls read the tags and dont read if ur not comfortable !!!! there's references to abuse, but no actions happen in the story. </p>
<p>just wanted to write a perspective of martín becoming a father, and thinking about how rodrigo said that palermo probably had a rough relationship with his mother. i think it'd influence martín and how he feels abt becoming a father. anyway pls i hope there r more berlermo + kids fics bc it's so cute 🥺</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>if martín had to pinpoint his life changing with one moment, he would say when his papá passed away. </p>
<p>he remembers loving his papá. when he was little, his papá taught him about music and the guitar, how to dance, how buildings worked, how everything worked, and he loved it when his papá would pick him up and zoom him around their small living room. his papá would bump into things and the two of them would laugh so loud they’d wake up his mamá, sleeping in her room. he was so happy, then. </p>
<p>when he was nine, his papá passed away. at nine, he didn’t understand it that well. it was a fuzzy feeling, knowing that he would never see his papá again. but that was when his life changed. after his death, his mamá became angry. always teetering between life and death. she cursed him out every time they saw each other at home, she says he reminded her too much of his papá. </p>
<p>he was 15 when he started hating her. he hated every word that came out of her mouth, hated how it felt when she hit him and told him not to fight back. ‘how could people take this?’ he would wonder at night, because he thought that was normal. he would wake up angry, but sad. he just wished for something better. </p>
<p>then at 16, it got worse. he brought a boy home, his name was santiago. he was lanky, mostly made up of legs. he had a mess of curly black hair on his head and he was also captain of the track team, with a charming smile and the bluest of eyes. they had been doing this for a while, kissing in abandoned alleyways far from school or meeting up in parks and fucking in santiago’s car. they were both embarrassed, embarrassed that instead of wanting to be with a girl, like they should be, they were kissing each other. </p>
<p>but they were kissing on martín’s bed, with martín on the bottom. a mess of tangled limbs and clothing, and they were so close. he was so in the moment he didn’t hear his mother coming in, he only heard her shouts when she swung open the door. every slur imaginable came out of her mouth, and after dressing again, santiago ran out faster than he ever did at track meets. his mamá didn’t hit him, she didn’t do it much anymore now that he’s older. just slammed the bottle of liquor in her hand on the floor and told him to pick up the pieces. </p>
<p>he never saw santiago again, after that. and martín became angry. </p>
<p>his anger fueled him through school, it caused him to end up top of his class and end up with a scholarship to university in spain, for engineering. just as his papá wanted, and what he wanted as well. his mamá didn’t attend his graduation ceremony. </p>
<p>and when he finally left buenos aires, he had never felt so happy in his life. </p>
<p>“martín?” his name being called echoes, bounces off walls. though it’s a whisper, it’s louder in his ears. he turns back and sees andrés halfway buried under their sheets, eyes barely open but reaching out for him. “why’re you out there?” andrés slurs. </p>
<p><em>i’ve just been thinking about my childhood and how terrified i am of becoming like her, </em> is what he thinks. his life is changing tomorrow, it’s probably why he can’t sleep and he can only reminisce and think about the what-ifs. “i’ll be back,” he calls back, then moves forward on their balcony. he leans against the railing, stares into the ocean, like it holds the answers. answers for tomorrow. </p>
<p>because sofia was coming home tomorrow. </p>
<p>getting a child wasn’t something they both wanted. at least, at first. </p>
<p>they both settled for each other, because martín had waited too long for this and he didn’t want to share andrés. it seemed selfish of him, and it was. but no one could deny him that. but the two of them decided that a child was a liability. a future weapon of destruction for the two of them. their downfall, probably, in the end. </p>
<p>then cincinnati arrived. </p>
<p>the little boy was a whirlwind, a storm. he surged through with no mercy and at first, when they all were preparing for the bank of spain heist, it was horrible. he would hear wailing all through the night and he could never sleep. then it just changed. </p>
<p>he was strolling through the courtyard, back to the chapel to see andrés with some new sketches. and then, cincinnati bumped into him. it had been their first real encounter. “holá!” the boy wailed, waving at him. he looked at the boy with what probably was disgust, because denver and stockholm shouted angrily at him. then he rolled his eyes and crouched down to the boy’s height</p>
<p>“i’m palermo,” he said, putting out his hand. instead of a shake, the boy slapped it, laughing. “you should come play pirates with me! i know the perfect place!” cincinnati exclaimed, jumping up and down. he ran a hand through his hair, about to deny and say no, when stockholm shouted, “please play with him, denver and i need to talk!” and stockholm was nice enough. </p>
<p>after all, maybe children weren’t that bad. </p>
<p>he shrugged, and let cincinnati drag him around. </p>
<p>at the end of the day, everyone found them two napping under the apple trees, with an arm around cincinnati. when he woke up, stockholm carefully pulled cincinnati from him, the boy whining. “‘nighty-night, ‘lermo,” the boy murmured, before falling back asleep on his mother’s shoulder. andrés had helped him up, and everyone made their way back up to the monastery, the two of them trailing behind. </p>
<p>“you’d make a good father, you know, martín,” andrés had said to him as he gripped his hand. and he had never stopped thinking about it since then.</p>
<p>but it was scarier, now. </p>
<p>sofia is, in every sense, perfect. even though he’s spent limited time with her, martín knows he’s ready to spend every moment with her. </p>
<p>she’s small, barely a year old. her eyes are the brightest of blues, her skin is golden under the light, and when she laughs, it’s best noise martín has ever heard. </p>
<p>he didn’t hold her, in the monastery. andrés did, with his careful, painter hands. martín was scared, his hands weren’t as soft and his arms sometimes weren’t as welcoming. she seemed so fragile and martín felt so big, like if he moved wrong, he’d hurt her. it terrified him. but nevertheless, the happiness he felt from just looking at her was enough. </p>
<p>that night, when he and andrés came home, they both knew she was everything. </p>
<p>the process took them a few weeks, even though they weren’t doing it through an orphanage. they were adopting her from nuns, in a monastery that was different from the one they used to live. she was a miracle, they told the two of them. honestly, it’s a miracle that the nuns are letting her go, given that they were two men. but they had showed the nuns where they lived, around the home the two of them built. </p>
<p>but baby sofia was found in the forest a little ways away from the monastery, they told them. in a small basket, with a note about taking her and caring for her. on the note was her birth certificate, identification, everything. but the nuns were thankful that they came to take her away. even though they had grown to love the child, they had a different devotion. </p>
<p>he still worried, though. he’s terrified he’ll turn into his mother. an angry, broken, mess of a parent, too broken to take care of her child. and he’s afraid he’ll subject sofia to his own anger. he scoffs, he can’t even hold her without being terrified. it makes him feel sick, all his thoughts brewing up inside. </p>
<p>“are you scared?” andrés is suddenly behind him, arms wrapping around his middle. he feels andrés rest his chin against his shoulder, his cheek pressed to his. martín lets out a small huff, kissing his cheek quickly, then turning back to the sea. </p>
<p>“of course i am. and you?” </p>
<p>“why?” andrés moves them around, so they stand face to face. andrés still looks half asleep, with his robe thrown on haphazardly and his hair sticking in every direction. his eyelids droop, but there’s still some curiosity in his face. </p>
<p>“i can’t even hold her without shaking,” he admits quietly, not able to look him in the eye. “i thought shaking was my thing?” andrés chuckles. martín laughs quietly, shaking his head. “was,” he muses. </p>
<p>“you’ll be a good father, martín. you care too much,” andrés places an arm on his shoulder, rubbing a little bit with his thumb, soothing him. it doesn’t help, his chest tightens. </p>
<p>“i don’t want to become my mamá,” whispers martín, almost on the verge of tears. he can’t quite look at andrés yet, not when he’s about to cry. “and you’ll never be her,” andrés hands, his delicate hands, pull him closer, resting on both sides of his cheeks. it forces him to look at andrés’ eyes, and he knows he’s going to cry. </p>
<p>“you are much more than your mamá. and you are better than her, in every way. you may be related, but that’s your only connection to her, hm? you are your own person and i know you’ll be a great father, martín.” </p>
<p>“i don’t want to ruin her, andrés. she doesn’t deserve what i went through,” his voice breaks, at the end. like always, andrés holds him close, and martín buries his face in his neck, failing at trying to hold back his sobs. </p>
<p>“we will make her happy in every way, martín. she will be ours.” </p>
<p>sometime later, andrés pulls him back to bed and the two of them sleep. the next morning, they wake up, make the final preparations for sofia, and soon, they are on their way to the monastery for the last time. andrés has to drive, because he felt like he couldn’t breathe. like something was squeezing his lungs. </p>
<p>and when martín berrote finally holds his daughter, he feels like he could breathe again. </p>
<p>--- </p>
<p><em>sometime later, in an abandoned house somewhere in europe </em> </p>
<p>“is this sofia? oh hello,” nairobi’s voice is loud, booming. even when she’s talking to a child. but nevertheless, sofia laughs in his arms, clapping her hands. at this point, her hair is longer now, and martín has to put clips in it to avoid it falling in front of her face. </p>
<p>“you know what i feel now, huh, palermo?” nairobi smiles at him as he puts down sofia, letting her run over to her other papá. nairobi pulls him into a hug, he laughs as he hugs back. “i love her so much.” </p>
<p>“you’ve gone soft.” </p>
<p>two years had passed since they took sofia in. </p>
<p>being a parent scared him at first, even with the first few months. he was hesitant to feed her, to hold her. not because he didn’t want to, but because he was scared to. scared he was going mess things up for her like his own mamá did. but overtime, he gained courage. </p>
<p>sofia rarely cried at night, something that both he and andrés were grateful for. but when she did, he was always the one to go and comfort her. hold her close to his chest and sing soft lullabies to lull her to sleep. if it took longer, he’d go out, with her in his arms, to the sea. she liked the sounds of the ocean, and when they were out there, she fell asleep quickly. he didn’t mind waking up, it never bothered him. and plus, andrés was a heavy sleeper. </p>
<p>he had seen changes in andrés too. he seemed much softer, a much more rounder personality. sometimes martín would watch the two of them paint, and she would get paint in his hair. andrés let her, opting to laugh and spin her around, smiling like she was the only girl in the world. </p>
<p>but they had their ups and downs, of course. shouts over sofia, about why she shouldn’t do this or that, why she was left on her own. sometimes sofia would have tantrums, and andrés would shut the two of them out, and of course that fueled martín’s anger. but nothing more than shouts ever happened. their quarrels were usually solved within days time, too. but even if they fight, they will always agree on sofia, at the end of the day. </p>
<p>“sofia! i’m nairobi. say nai-ro-bi,” nairobi turns her attention back to sofia who was bounding over to her. martín smiles as nairobi crouches down to her height, holding her small hands in her own. “‘obi!” sofia exclaims, laughing. she always laughed. </p>
<p>“wow, you’re very smart! you take after your papás, don’t you!” she coos and picks her up, pressing kisses to her cheek. eventually, their commotion causes everyone else in the house to go out, smile, and shout. with sofia, it’s like he and andrés didn’t exist. they all crowd around her and she basks in the attention, smiling and laughing. martín steps away, goes to help andrés with some of their things. </p>
<p>“she loves the attention,” martín laughs as andrés hands him their suitcase. all of them were staying at an abandoned house, just for a week or so, like old times. there were just no heists involved. just a reunion.</p>
<p>“she’s becoming just like you,” andrés smirks, slamming the hood of their trunk down. martín rolls his eyes, punching him in the shoulder as they trudge back up to their daughter, who was now in the arms of tokyo. “she’s an angel,” she says, letting sofia mess with her hair. "you didn't keep the naming tradition?" denver asks lightly, eyes never leaving sofia's. "we're not subjecting her to future torture, thank you very much," he snips, crossing his arms. denver hits him lightly, but he still laughs, enamored by sofia. sergio is the first one to give them hugs, other than nairobi. </p>
<p>“you’ve changed, hermano. you too, martín,” he says, smiling. he isn’t wearing his suits anymore, opting for a button up opened halfway, fitting for the summer. andrés didn’t bring his suits either, also bringing soft button ups and polos and regular shirts. the two were the same. “she has that effect,” andrés muses, looking at her. they make eye contact and sofia makes grabby hands for him, letting out, “papí! papí!” andrés abandons him and sergio for sofia, running over to them. laughs are shared all around, peace. </p>
<p>“i never knew you wanted a child,” sergio tells him. martín shrugs, “things change. i love her more than anything.” his eyes light up when sofia smiles at him, even though they’re many feet away. she waves at him, over andrés’ shoulder. </p>
<p>nothing separates them now.</p>
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